


Amongst the Living

by bright73



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: Bonding, Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-22
Updated: 2006-01-22
Packaged: 2017-10-20 14:12:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/213615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bright73/pseuds/bright73
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tag to 6.12 Daddy’s Little Girl</p>
            </blockquote>





	Amongst the Living

I stare at her while she convulses on the bed. Simply stare and continue to do so while Sofia half-heartedly tries to administer something akin to CPR. It’s over for Kelly Gordon, truly over and I knew it the moment I read the labels. No one survives that concoction.

I’m shocked at my own coldness.

It’s like since the discussion with Griss in his office I have been ripped further from the real world. I live in it but I can’t feel like I belong in it. I don’t know where I belong any more. I now realize I have no control whatsoever of anything, anything but myself, and hardly even that.

When the EMTs swarm the room I simply walk out. I leave it all behind me and keep on putting one foot before the other in pursuit for movement of any kind. Because if I stay something will catch up with me and I can’t allow that to happen since everything should be over. That is what they tell me; it’s all over Nick, you’re fine and it’s all over. I never told them that sometimes I suspect it’s not even begun yet. Sometimes I look in the mirror and I don’t recognize myself. I’ve tried to find the old Nick but he’s lost at the moment. Days like today I can hardly remember him.

I don’t remember the drive back to the lab. I just suddenly find myself in the break-room and my hands shake when I pour the hot coffee. Never have I been so glad to be alone like in this precise moment, the one where my weakness manifests itself in tremor.

I lean on the counter and steel myself until the tremors stop and I smile reflexively in case someone is watching. One little victory over myself, the self I am battling on a regular basis. The self that wants to kick and scream and rebel, the self that demands a reason for what happened to me, a reason to why it was me. Any reason at all would suffice except the one that is staring me in my face.

Bad luck.

It is over. Grissom has spoken and I should listen to the man. He’s more experienced and far more wiser than I will ever be. But I am pissed. He lied to me. Kept evidence from me and made me a mere number on a sheet. A nobody. Some one he didn’t even bother telling about new evidence to, the risk that it would be a messy emotional scene was too much to handle and the cold logical part of me wonders if I’d done the same it it concerned anybody else?

Then it hits me.

I am standing here; with nobody at all by my side. I walked away from a scene and nobody reacted. I’ve not only isolated my emotions, I’ve isolated myself. I’m a ghost walking these hallways, leaving little or no trace. I stare into the cup and realize I have much more in common with Grissom than I never thought I’d have. I share his need for privacy and have gotten loneliness as a result, I am learning to distance myself from any feelings and look at evidence as cold facts without any trace of humanity involved. And right at this moment I don’t even like the man very much and I certainly don’t like myself. I stare into the cup; watching the heat liberate itself in vapour and rising to escape the confines of the cup.

“Nick!”

I’m startled by the voice and look up. Brass is leaning in the door-frame watching me just as intently as I’ve been watching the vapour.

“Get your coat, we’re leaving.”

“Huh?”

“We’re going to get plastered. We’re going to drown our sorrows for just a little while. Day’s taking over the Gordon-case. I’ve talked to Griss and quite frankly, I felt the need to kick him in there but I know it’s no use. He thinks it’s over but I know it isn’t. Not by a long shot and you and I will talk. We’ll talk and dilute everything with the finest of Scotch I can provide. Which doesn’t mean much but since it’s my treat you don’t have a say.”

I crack a smile then and Jim looks quite pleased with himself.

When we walk over to his car he stops halfway to it and turns to look at me. “You know what Nick, I don’t ever want you to become Grissom. Never. Witout you I have nobody to turn to with my hunch-cases. You’re the only one that has that capability and I don’t ever want you to lose that. You have the guts to follow hunches where ever they take you, without the cold facts evidence provides you. I need you Nick, just so you know.”

My eyes get moist at his statement and I have to blink to keep the tears back. But deep inside somewhere I feel the old Nick stirring and I remember the vacancy of Kelly’s eyes as she falls over and convulses on the bed. I let myself see the complete desperation therein and the sense of utter hopelessness and promised relief she must have felt the moment she emptied the pills into her mouth and swallowed. I recognize her fear of dying alone and needing somebody, anybody to be there with her. It happened to be me. I could have been anybody but it happened to be me.

“Promise me that.”

I hear Jim speak at my side as he opens the door to his car and I nod before I walk over to the passenger side and climb in.

“I need to hear you say it Nick. Say ‘I promise’.” He’s looking at me, his eyes never wavering as he pins me to the seat with urgency in the usually so stoic face.

“I promise,” I reply as ordered and my voice is thick and hoarse and memories wash over me and in Brass’ eyes I see that it was what he wanted. He’s letting me know he understands that something will never be over and after all I am not all alone with this all. That maybe I’ve been looking for guidance in all the wrong places after all.

“Good,” he says and sticks the key into the ignition and turns the key. “That’s all I want Nick," he speaks as he steers out of the parking lot. “The rest will work itself out eventually, as long as you don’t lose yourself you will be fine eventually. It’s gonna be ugly and it’s gonna be hard but the Nick I know will pull through.”

I look out of the windshield and the knot I’ve been carrying in the pit of my stomach slowly melts and the old Nick actually grins at Jim Brass as he lets out a snarled quip at the driver suddenly and without warning changing lanes in front of us.

Maybe, just maybe he’ll come back someday, only in an upgraded version. The old Nick that actually felt something other than distance and alienation.

Maybe someday I’ll truly be back amongst the living.


End file.
